Barney Frank

PROGRAM NOTE: The News Guy will be on Vermont This week on Vermont Public Television at 7:30PM, repeated Sunday at 11:30 AM for those otherwise occupied Friday evening. (Don’t tell anyone, but the program is actually taped mid-afternoon).

No car chases, dancing movie stars, or crime laboratories, but possibly some informed discussion about what’s going on in the state this week.

Speaking of political events scheduled this weekend, the Vermont Democratic Party has a humdinger on tap Sunday evening. Rep. Barney Frank of Massachusetts, the chairman of the House Financial Services Committee, will be the guest speaker at a fund-raiser at the Main Street Landing Performing Arts Center on Burlington’s lakeside.

It isn’t just that Frank’s chairmanship makes him one of the most influential members of Congress in these days of financial crisis. It’s also that he’s a piece of work. He’s genuinely witty, as opposed to all those pols who hire a good speechwriter to come up with a joke or two. Though clearly on the liberal side of most policy debates, he’s not a knee-jerk anything, and is not afraid to find fault with his own allies even as he can be caustic about the Republican opposition.

Just the guy whose remarks might enliven Vermont Democrats as well as raise some money for the party.

As of Tuesday evening, though only the 60-to-100 Vermont Democrats who pay their $50 (or more) to attend the event will have the foggiest idea what Frank says Sunday, or what Vermont’s own Rep. Peter Welch says, either.

“We’re not making the event open to the press,” said Robert Dempsey, the party’s executive director.

Why? Because the party is “trying to raise money,” Dempsey said. “It’s not necessarily a matter of policy to make all our events open to the press.”

OK, for the following reasons, the rest of this exercise is not going to be too hard on Dempsey or the Vermont Democrats:

–Reason One. There is no law requiring the Democrats to allow reporters into the reception at the Lake Street Landing’s Great Room. A political party is a private entity, and so is Lake Street Landing, although it’s a public accommodation.

–Reason Two. In general, Democrats are not as restrictive as Republicans in these matters, and it could just be happenstance that the matter came up for the first time (as far as this web site is concerned) over a Democratic event.

Reason Three. All around the country, closed political fund-raisers have become more common, so common that reporters seem to have ceased complaining about being denied access. They should not so cease.

Reason Four. The Dems have at least three days in which to change their mind, and they might. In a second telephone conversation, Dempsey said party officials were “looking into whether to make the general reception” open to reporters. (Late update: And did so Wednesday afternoon)

But the reconsideration came only after he was told that, while the party had the right to ban the press, members of the press had the right to call the decision really, really, dumb.

So before going any further, let’s do that. This decision, if not reversed (and maybe even if it is), is really, really dumb.

One would think that Vermont Democrats would want to expose some of Barney Frank’s bons mots to the widest possible audience. The smart thing would be to invite all the radio and television stations in, as well as print reporters, hoping that some of the guest speaker’s sharper anti-Republican rhetoric would get on the air, or at least into the newspaper, or at least on line.

Keeping the press out is also very un-Barney-Frankish, especially for those who remember young Massachusetts State Legislator Barney Frank attending left-of-liberal conferences with allies such as the late Michael Harrington, with their constant and heartfelt pledges of openness and transparency.

Besides, there is really only one reason politicians want to close their meetings: because they are doing something in there that they don’t want the public to see.

Or, more accurately, it is perfectly reasonable for the public to assume, or least to suspect, that the pols want no prying eyes because they’re doing…well, something they shouldn’t be doing.

Even though they aren’t.  It’s absurdly unlikely that Vermont Democrats and Barney Frank will be doing anything illegal, immoral, or underhanded Sunday evening. Nor is it at all likely that Frank will say anything out of journalistic earshot that he wouldn’t say in front of a barrage of cameras and tape recorders.

There won’t even be any active fund-raising taking place at the general reception, starting at 5:30. Dempsey was very open and candid about the proceedings. Everyone at the general reception would pay $50, all of which will eventually be a matter of public record. But they will have already paid it, or will pay as they enter. There’s nothing scandalous or disgraceful about that, so no reason to keep it secret.

So why raise suspicions by closing the reception, in which two members of Congress will make speeches in a quasi-public venue? Such meetings should be open.  They used to be, almost without exception. Closing them only makes press and public alike wonder what the politicians are hiding.

A half hour earlier, Dempsey said, special (meaning higher-donating) guests may attend a “host reception,” for which they will pay anywhere from $250 to $2,500.

These more exclusive meetings are routinely closed to the press, and perhaps reporters should complain about that, too. But candidates and officeholders don’t make speeches at those sessions, and, again, the contributions don’t stay secret.

Dempsey said the Democrats were hoping for 100 guests, though

Melinda Moulton of Main Street Landing said the Great Room wouldn’t hold that many. But then she said maybe it would. Moulton appeared to be having a bad day. Asked how much the Democrats were paying for the facility, she snapped, “none of your business,” apparently unaware that in politics, these expenditures are eventually a matter of public record. (Dempsey said he would look up the figure and call back, but as of Tuesday night he had not).

The final reason that closing the reception is foolish is that nobody might want to cover it anyway. Yes, the News Guy asked about access, but it was a tentative question, and with political coverage generally at a low ebb these days, the evening might have come and gone without a reporter coming within a mile of the venue (guessing it’s about a mile from the Burlington Free Press building).

Now some reporters, maybe even this one, might feel obligated to show up. Democrats (and, without doubt, Republicans, too) you really don’t have anything to hide. So stop hiding.

Being a man of his word, the News Guy follows up today, because he said he would, on Wednesday’s post, One House, Two House (just scroll down) suggesting that Vermont think about – or at least think about thinking about – getting rid of the State Senate and operating under a unicameral (one house) legislature.

Before embarking on the promised history lesson explaining how the state got to have two legislative houses (which is no more “natural” than one, and is decreed by no higher power), a brief comment on the comments by the commentator who called himself simply “A Nebraskan” (which can be read by clicking on “comments” at the end of Wednesday’s post).

William Wirt: Vermont's favorite

“A Nebraskan” thinks the unicameral legislature in his state is a disaster, and he seems to have a good case. But the problems he mentions stem less (if at all) from the Legislature’s unicamerality (if that’s a word) than from two other peculiarities of the system there: non-partisanship and term limits.

Without a party structure in the Legislature, “A Nebraskan notes,” not only the state lawmakers but also its “representatives in Congress are unfamiliar with a body run on party lines, and we end up with weak back benchers getting lost in the highly partisan system in Washington.”

And thanks to term limits, he said, the Legislature has little “institutional memory” and “the balance of power has shifted to lobbyists and department heads appointed by the governor.”

Neither problem would bedevil Vermont, where partisanship is vigorous and relatively civil, and where term limits, surely one of the worst political ideas of the last millennium or so, has never had much of a following.

As mentioned Wednesday, Nebraska may now be the only state with one legislative house, but it isn’t the only one in history. From its creation in 1777 until 1836, Vermont had a unicameral legislature, and even though State Archivist Gregory Sanford warns that discussing the details could make one “the most boring guest at a cocktail party,” there’s a lesson to be learned in how and why the state switched to two houses.

Way back before the slogan “one person-one vote” was common, each of Vermont’s 246 towns chose one member of the General Assembly’s single house, in a September election, for a session which met every October and ended sometime in November.

The governor, at least until after 1800, had no veto power. But he was also the head of a twelve member Council, and together, the Governor and Council could either “concur with, or propose amendments to, bills passed by the house (or)  suspend passage of a bill until the following session,” in the words of a speech Sanford made in 1999.

The Council, then, though part of the Executive Branch, had quasi-legislative powers. It was a semi-Senate. And its 12 members were elected at large, meaning none of them represented any particular part of the state.

The upshot, Sanford said, was “a lot of tension,” especially because the Legislature was “fragmented among multiple parties,” including Whigs,  Democrats, and the anti-Masonic Party, which was briefly powerful in Vermont, the only state to give its electoral votes to the party’s 1832 presidential candidate, William Wirt. (No Republicans, yet; they came along later).

Complicating matters further, Sanford said, was the “unofficially but rigidly adhered to ‘Mountain Rule,’” requiring that a governor from one side of the mountains would be succeeded by someone from the other side.

All this turmoil came to a head in 1835 when the governor’s race was won by…nobody. Then as now, a candidate for governor needed a majority, and when the divided electorate did not provide one, the election went to the unicameral General Assembly.

Which couldn’t provide one, either, not even after casting 63 ballots over a three-day period starting October 9. In desperation (or something) the lawmakers finally installed Lt. Gov. Silas Jenison as Acting Governor, the first governor, Sanford said, to have been born in Vermont.

At this point, apparently even the General Assembly was embarrassed enough by itself that it “resolved to create a senate, a deliberative body to check on the exuberance of the House.” To provide greater local representation than the Governors Council, the Assembly opted for a 30-member Senate, half elected by county, the other half at-large.

But there were only 13 counties, meaning substantially less than half the senators would be elected from districts. Looking at the map, and no doubt the politics, the movers and shakers of the day apparently couldn’t figure out how to create two new counties. So they settled on one, and created Lamoille county. Now there could be 14 senators representing counties and 16 elected at large.

It took a Constitutional amendment in 1836 to create the Senate, with the lieutenant governor as presiding officer. As is true in other states which follow the same model, a little confusion about executive-legislative power remained. To which branch does the lieutenant governor belong?

To the executive, said Lt. Gov. David Camp in his opening address to the first senate.

“It seems very obvious that a body, which does not choose its presiding officer, cannot with propriety assign him the power of appointing its committees and officers,” he said.

So he didn’t, and the lieutenant governor still doesn’t.

(Nor does the vice president of the United States, though Dick Cheney once tried to argue that he was not subject to certain executive branch rules because he was really part of the legislative branch. The argument was not convincing).

What all this history has to do with today’s situation is that it has nothing at all to do with it. The turmoil that prompted the General Assembly to create a senate – many parties, the Mountain Rule, the Governors Council with a foot in both branches – no longer exists, so present no arguments against Vermont considering a return to unicameralism.

But why stop there? Check the third comment to Wednesday’s post, not from a Nebraskan, but from a Vermonter who wondered what would happen if the state adopted a Canadian-style parliamentary system (“minus the Queen,” he said) where a legislative (parliamentary) majority would choose a prime minister rather than a governor.

This reader thought such a system would lead to “the formation of third parties and coalition governments.”

Maybe and maybe not. And that might or might not be a desirable outcome. But it’s worth a little musing. Continued anon.

Early in last night’s candidate debate, Sen. Peter Shumlin delivered an unusually astute (for a candidate) bit of political analysis that illustrates the challenge facing him or whichever of his opponents wins the Democratic primary for governor.

Shumlin said the voters of Vermont were like the members of a large, complex (as aren’t they all?) family about to sit down to Thanksgiving dinner, a meal which can be either pleasant or “a hair-pulling deal.”

What those voters want, he said, is a governor whose presence at the head of that table reassures them that “a food fight isn’t going to break out.”

The bad news for the Democrats is that the Republican nominee, Lt. Gov. Brian Dubie, who exudes poise, stability, and geniality, has at least tentatively crossed that threshold.

The good news for the Democrats is that, based on the performance of the three contenders who met at Sterling College in Craftsbury Common Thursday evening, any one of them has the potential to cross it, too.

Shumlin and Senators Doug Racine and Susan Bartlett answered the questions put to them knowledgeably, confidently, and even not all that long-windedly. Judging from conversations with several of the hundred or so in the audience, all three candidates impressed just about the whole crowd.

They were occasionally funny, sometimes at their own expense, and considering that the primary is only two months away, remarkably civil toward one another.

In fact, if there was a political downside for the Democrats, it was that all three came across so well that few of the onlookers were ready to choose among them.

“I was undecided when I came, and I was hoping to leave here with a favorite,” said one woman. “But I think they’re all great.”

A couple of qualifications before proceeding. First, there are five Democratic candidates, and the two no-shows can’t be judged here. Secretary of State Deborah Markowitz was never scheduled to attend. Former senator Matt Dunne was, but withdrew after his wife gave birth to the couple’s third baby Monday.

Second, the News Guy, as the debate moderator, was the one asking the questions (until throwing it open to the floor after about 40 minutes). Sitting at the table  with the candidates is not the same as sitting in a row with the spectators, so the perspective may be a little warped.

For that reason, and because it’s late (the debate ended at 9), this will be a shorter than usual post, hitting just a few of the highlights of the evening

Perhaps because of the questions, the candidates did not, as they reportedly have in recent debates, spend much time attacking Dubie. At one point, in fact, Shumlin expressed a mock sympathy for the lieutenant governor.

“Free Brian Dubie” Shumlin said, calling attention to the Dubie campaign aide at the back of the room videotaping the debate, to which Dubie had also been invited. Dubie has declined almost all joint appearances with the other candidates, and Shumlin said it was because Dubie’s campaign consultants were keeping him under wraps.

The closest the candidates came to a squabble came when Racine said that this year’s Legislature had “left an $8 million hole in the budget,” and gave Gov. Jim Douglas authority to make the cuts.

Not so, said Bartlett, who insisted, “we did leave with a balanced budget and did not tell the governor to go ahead and cut.”

The candidates revealed some policy differences, though they pale in comparison to the differences between the parties. Bartlett demonstrated more support for the idea of consolidating school supervisory unions. But none of them favored forcing local school districts to combine.

Shumlin most strongly supported creation of a statewide universal “single payer” health care plan. Racine leans in that direction, but is awaiting the report of a special commission on health care created by a bill Racine sponsored. Bartlett did not express support for a single payer system.

Though the debate kept going beyond its 90 scheduled minutes, almost nobody left. The audience seemed to be having a good time. Perhaps more surprisingly, so did the candidates, though they had done this, Bartlett estimated, “at least 30 times,” and were scheduled for scores more.

Maybe they sense that any one of them has the chance to emerge as the kind of person Vermonters want to see carving the turkey at the head of their Thanksgiving table.